Gift Giving

Today, I have received a gift. 

Receiving presents makes me terribly uncomfortable. There's not a lot of stuff I really want or need. It is really sweet when someone buys me something small and thoughtful, or sends me something little in the post as a pick-me-up. It is nice to feel like someone cares about you, thinks about you.

But just giving loads of gifts, for the sake of it? Because you like buying gifts? It annoys me. Except, I am not allowed to be annoyed at it because they are doing it for me. I appreciate that I am very lucky and I am grateful, but it is the useless expense that bothers me. Why have you bought me this, why have you bought me so much? I didn't ask for it. I don't expect it. I don't want it. It's not humorous or meaningful; a shared joke or memory. It doesn't make me happy, it makes me feel guilty. 

I try to take the view that it is their money, that they get to choose how to spend it, and if it makes them happy to spend it on me, then the real gift is not the item but the way it makes them feel and my main role is to allow them their joy in purchasing presents for me. It sounds awful and ungracious to put it that way, I know. I'm sure there's plenty of people (although most of them not reading this) who would love someone to just show some sort of affection towards them through gift-giving. Who ask, would I miss it if I didn't have it? Would I prefer someone who didn't buy me gifts at all? 

Of course I appreciate the affection that is demonstrated in this routine. To have someone, who is always thinking of you first - buying you things before they buy themselves things. It is nice. But there are always other ways of doing that. I don't need all the stuff.

What do I do with all this stuff? Stuff I won't use; stuff that takes up space; stuff that costs large amounts of money and is never seen nor worn. The sensible thing is to tell the person you don't want the stuff. But to them, the stuff is their love. The stuff is them. To say you don't want the stuff is to say you don't want them. I can't understand it, to me, stuff is mostly just stuff and I have too much,  yet I am very bad at getting rid of it. 

Flitterbox: The Feeling ~ Same Old Stuff

Forever Lost

Today, I have felt conflicted.

I want to read more. I want to watch more shows, dramas, series, films. I want to blog more; write more; say more. I want to say less; do more. I want to get out more; I prefer staying in. I want to craft more; creative pursuits frustrate my perfectionist nature.

I want a new job; I couldn't ask for better benefits. I want more money; I have plenty to live on. I want to drink more alcohol; but why? I want to drink less alcohol; but I hardly do already. I want to consume less dairy; for the cows. But what is pasta without cheese? What is tea without milk?

Tea with an alternative milk is a coagulating nightmare.  It doesn't mushroom up to the top when you pour into the cup; it drops, densely to the bottom, like it doesn't belong. It has a life of its own, it is lava bubbling up to the surface, constantly shifting, changing, moving. It tastes okay; I could get used to it.

I want to feel settled. But I've been told that in my twenties it's perfectly normal not to be so.

Flitterbox: Crowded House ~ Weather With You
Flitterbook: We Were Liars ~ E. Lockhart

Steel Bites

Ever since I was little, I've been eating steel. You know those things you do without really giving a second thought? Rather than trying to face the fear of doing something, I get someone else to sort it out for me and  I swallow a bit of steel. Steel doesn't taste nice, it's a bit like guilt, regret and disappointment mixed into a bite-sized ball bearing, but in exchange, I get something I need or want so it kind of feels like it's worth it and I don't concern myself over the consequences it might have later down the line.

As I say, I've been eating small, controlled portions of steel for a while now and, as you should know, steel is magnetic. So, any time someone gives me a bit of steel, I will become more affected by their magnet. They are likely to be aware of this fact, but it's not deliberate and it's not malicious, it's just one of the common laws of science. From a simple viewpoint, it seems that the more steel I eat, the more rewards I get but it comes at the price, in that it's hard to detach myself from their field of influence. This inability to take control over my own position and pathway can be severely problematic and becomes worse the longer I let it go on.

Clocking Time

I wake up with cold feet.

It's 5.18am and I can't drift off back into slumber. Silently, I lie: worn out, yet wide awake. After twenty minutes or so, I switch on the radio and listen idly until an acceptable waking hour arrives and the world starts to stir. I get up and make a cup of tea.

Chocolate Lab

Imagine you work in a chocolate shop.

It's a wonderful, cosy hove of tasty treasures, stocked to the brim with exquisite home-made treats of all sorts. It's a cushy job, you know, the chocolatier allows to have anything you desire from the shop. In fact, you needn't even ask, if you want to try something, you can, whatever the delicacy, whatever the price. You feel privileged that you're in such a position, to have this opportunity, after all, plenty would pay big bucks to just have a taste of such delectable confectionery and you get your pick of the lot, without paying a penny?!

Indeed, you are such a lucky, lucky person.

Forbidden Fruit

There's something awfully attractive about a someone that you can't or shouldn't have.

Pursuing that person can be wicked and cruel, not to mention a cause for tortured souls, but ultimately that is what is so delightful about it. Much of what is so deliciously exciting is the purely illicit nature. Maybe a smidgen of schadenfreude, but more than that is the sense of superiority and control over another person, even if it's not strictly in anyone's best interest. The knowledge that one has the ability to draw the favourable specimen away from its chosen prey and lure the object of desire to a focus elsewhere offers a sort of rush that is hard to rationalise. That you must be worth the potential risk, in some respect, for something to happen in the first place. Everyone loves to be in on a good bit of gossip, and to be at the core of a secret is the most exhilarating part of it. Teetering on the edge of being discovered, that tantalising mystery that surrounds every encounter creates a bittersweet taste that is hard to resist.

It's difficult to admit the challenge of the pursuit is what you like most.

Hooking Up

“You are so on the hook!”

Meaning: You are being strung along by a person whom you find attractive, but who has no intention of becoming your partner.

Whose fault is that? Two people: one would like to go out with the other. The other just sees the two of them as friends, nothing more, but perhaps enjoys the attention that arises as a result of being the object of someone’s affection. The pair have had a previous exchange in which intentions of each have been made unambiguously clear. Yet, they still hang out, they still chat, because they enjoy each other’s company or conversation or whatever.

Which is all fine and healthy, right?

All Nighter

Today, I have gone to bed at 7am.

I have a presentation to write, practise and present for Monday. I went out last night.

It was a friend's birthday barbecue. So I mingled, and I chatted and I didn't eat much and I haven't drunk in ages, so I was more than a little bit tipsy on only half a glass of wine. But it was fun. And I felt quite young, seeing as the friend is a postgraduate, consequently, most of his friends are of a similar age or status. And I felt quite girly, as the friend is male and studies science, so most of his friends are also boys. Or men, if you think mid-twenties is probably old enough to not be a boy anymore.

Later, we went out to a bar and onto a club, but the birthday boy and various friends went home and in the end it was just three girls. So I sat in the middle and I got my ear chewed off, hearing from my right and my left about boys, high hopes and dashed dreams. Although, I could see this coming from a mile off, what can you say to comfort a girl when that happens? Because, sweetie, it's clear he's just not that into you, there's no maybes about it. And I know you can't forget, and I know it's hard to stop wanting  and I know it's mighty frustrating waiting for something that may never come about, but now you've bitten the bullet and asked the question, so somehow, somehow, you just have to let it go. It's horrible being rejected, it really is, but it's better to try than to never know.

Don't ask; don't get. 

So, we stayed in the club 'til gone three am; they bought some chips; we met some new friends and all of a sudden, it's light outside and I'm going to bed at the time that my alarm should go off. Crazy. I am very, very tired and I have absolutely lost all motivation to study at all. I went past the point of caring a while back, and it's terrible, but I just can't do it. I've spent the day listening to the radio and identifying with almost every song they play. I've eaten waffles and pasta and cheese and flapjack. I haven't had enough sleep. I want to cry. A lot. 

This blog has become awfully autobiographical of late. 

On the jukebox: Dixie Chicks ~ You Can't Hurry Love 

Pretty Crystal

Today, I have no flower.

Not too long ago, I was given a gift. A sculpture, constructed from a few moulded glass capillary tubes with a magically grown copper sulfate crystal attached. It was beautiful. It looked like a royal blue chrysanthemum sitting atop a delicate transparent stem. And what's more, it was hand-made, specifically for me. This heartfelt creation took pride of place upon my shelf. 

That is, until this evening, when I realised that somehow it had fallen to the floor and smashed into pieces. My pretty crystal flower is no more. I am sad. Not only for the fact that I have lost a flower, but also, to realise that I can not share my loss with anyone. No-one saw the structure in all its glory, because I was too afraid to show it off; too worried that it would be seen as gloating; too concerned that it might seem like a simple sculpture was an subtle offering of something more substantial and too ashamed to admit that, although I appreciated the gift, I didn't want it to mean anything more than that. 

On the jukebox: Sweet Female Attitude ~ Flowers 

Okay Whatever

Today I have received a surprise package.

When encountering these kind of situations, whether it be a mystery parcel or a covert text, I tend to conduct an elaborate story in my head of how I should best go about the questioning of who it is from and why it has been sent. As all good liars know, it is best to keep it simple and not expand unless probed. Stick to a line that sounds plausible and everything will be fine. So I have this explanation which is mostly truth but may need to be embellished if inquiries delve deeper. Now, you may wonder wouldn't it be easier to just tell the whole truth, rather than concern yourself over exactly what to say. Well yes, perhaps, but I never did choose the open path.

The thing is, I always imagine these outlines of how the conversation could go if I were to be asked all these follow-up questions and you know, if they're persistent with the asking, it might have to eventually lead to the total truth. But rarely do I ever need to put the plan into place. Because the sad realisation is (and this is a snippet of wisdom that I first heard many moons ago), well, you have to remember: nobody really cares.

Spring Forward

Today, I have had a cheese toastie.

It's been a weird week. Full of dates, mates, dangling bait and staying up late.#

First of all, the best football match I've ever been to. That is, the only football match I've ever been to. As I have lamented and rejoiced in before, many of my friends are now boys. Lads who do laddish things like drink beer and watch football. So I went to watch the football with my merry men. It was quite an experience. After the match, we walked home. Most of it was along the canal, and it was lovely and picturesque and romantic and if only one of the boys was A Boy that I wanted to be with, rather than just Friends who I go to the football with. Hey ho. 

Next up, a cinema date that was not a date. That is, two colleagues going to see a film together because it's Orange Wednesday and they are the only ones that wish to see that particular movie. The only snag being the mismatch of sentiment between the two. However, the jury came to the conclusion that it was indeed a Just As Friends meet, and not a More Than Friends date. This involved tears, because rejection -  even when  implict rather than outright - is brutal, but better than the torture of never knowing. Ah well.

So to follow, there was a course social. Involving boys. And when there are boys, there is confusion, there is rarely a way to avoid that. So there were kisses that did not mean what they were supposed to, and inappropriate looks that made for uncomfortable conversations. In the mix was some harmless texting that would perhaps become hurtful, and so by the very act of remaining secret became a malicious act, despite the fact that it was completely innocent. Oh dear.

The rest of the week proceeded in much a similar manner, regarding boys and girls, unrequited feelings, dashed hopes and missed opportunities. An inbalance of attraction: that's what it boils down to in the end. I'm undecided on the whole cross-gender close friendship idea. I think it can work well as part of a mixed group but on a one-to-one basis, only in specific cases. Or perhaps it can work, I just don't think I've ever experienced it myself. Hmm.

In other news: I still have no cake. 

On the jukebox: Eels ~ Hey Man (Now You're Really Living)

Christmas Conflict

Today, I have a permanent internal conflict.

That is, you think you want someone to cuddle close to, 'cause it's Christmas and it's cold and wouldn't it be lovely? So you make a choice just for Christmas and it's nice to feel nice this time of year. But the choice can't comprehend that it's just a cosy choice because it's Christmas, and cuddles aren't for life or for longer than this. And even if you say, you say that that is how it is, you can say until you're blue in the face and the heart and yet your words will be lost to yesterday as the actions appear to suggest otherwise and once again, you are lead astray...

I don't mean for it to be this way.

They say we can love who we trust
But what is love without lust?
Two hearts with accurate devotions
And what are feelings without emotions?

On the jukebox: Semisonic ~ FNT

Suspended Reality

Today, I have been in a state of limbo.

I'm not a black or white, in or out, all or nothing kind of girl. I'm a wait and see, let things be, hmm possibly kind of girl. But now I'm at the stage where a decision has to be made: should I stay or should I go? A clear cut yes or no. I need to stop floating about in a fantasy world.

"We're one of those really annoying couples you see everywhere at this time of year, aren't we?!"

Why, yes, yes, it appears that we are acting as if that is the case. And for this moment, this instant, this small window of wonderful opportunity, it's fantastic. Until the bubble pops and we find ourselves crashing back to reality.

On one hand, I enjoy the affection ever so much. I enjoy the attention even more. I want it all and I want it now. But I can't have it all and I can't have it now. And I'm not actually sure if I want it because I want it, or I want it because I want him. I have a feeling it's the former, but I've not had a chance to find out if it's the latter because he wants me so much, I haven't got enough space to figure out my own feelings. Go away, give me a chance to miss you, say goodbye, it'll make me want to kiss you.

On the other side of the story, I enjoy flirtation ever so much. I'm on the lookout for someone to sweep me off my feet, I don't want to settle for something that is less than fireworks and butterflies, at least at the start. The distance is an issue, as is the whole needing to do well in the workstuff and for that, I don't need the distraction, because I am easily lead astray as it is. That's the logical, sensible side of it.

However, we have fun together and I long for that comfortable couple thing, so much so that I'm giving the wrong impression, up and down all over the place and I'm not just talking metaphorically. Actions speak louder than words. I kind of like the you're amazing affirmation and the random texts of amusing observations. I kind of like having someone there who cares about what I have to say. I tend to make things difficult for myself by blowing hot and cold, handing out mixed messages and misleading signals, left right and centre. But I'm not trying to play a game, I am genuinely confused about how I feel.

I don't really want to start something that I already know will end up going nowhere, because the deeper I let myself fall, the harder the hit will be. And I feel guilty and uneasy being aware that someone is more into me than I am into them. I don't have the time to figure out whether that is absolute, zero versus one, or whether we are just at different stages on the spectrum of attraction and it may take some time for me to get up to speed. I just don't know, I'm not sure and I don't want to be stringing someone along just for a bit of fun, all the while waiting for my knight in shining whatever to arrive out of the dark and show me the sparks I've been holding out for. But well, is there anything wrong with kissing a few frogs along the way?

So someone, please, tell me what to do?

On the jukebox: Katy Perry ~ Hot N Cold - we fight, we break up, we kiss, we make up

Femme Fatale

Today, I have been fazed by complications.

It is Sunday evening and I have once again lost my weekend in a haze of crazy nocturnal activity inbetween lazing around in bed. In fact, my whole week has been unproductive in its entirety.

Here's some tips:

If the boy you're kind of seeing (but not really seeing because you've only actually seen him once so how can you call that exclusive but that's besides the point) calls you up at half two in the morning when you're with your friends who are down for the weekend except that they're not really your friends and you kind of might have had a little thing with one of them at some point, then a) don't answer the phone and b) do not let the boy who you kind of had a thing with but not really and who is quite attractive with an amazingly sexy voice and also a proper Real Doctor take the phone from you and speak to the boy because the boy who you're kind of seeing but not really seeing might think that you're the kind of girl that does that kind of thing every Saturday night, when really, you're not that kind of girl at all.

Oh dear.

I am so so tired. I am so confused. I have been like this for over a week. I have a report due and a viva voce next week and I can't think and I'm not sure and I just want someone to talk to who is a) a girl and b) understands. Someone who doesn't resent me, because it's not as if I do go around suggesting that all of the boys are after me but I can't help it if somehow it's true. I'm not trying to be a homewrecker or a cocktease or arrogant bitch or whatever you want to think, I just want to get along with people. I just want to be friendly and have fun and yes, maybe flirt a little, too. But so can you, you know.

This is why I don't want to drink. I do not like myself when I am drunk. Alcohol is not an excuse.

Oh dear.

On the jukebox: Elton John ~ Are You Ready For Love?

Making Magic

Today, I have organised.

You know, when you're a magician, and you're expected to impress everyone, every time, with every trick you do. You should be in that place, at this time, because you always gather a good crowd there which generally makes for a good time. But it's also that person's party and they want you to perform, and you can't and that's unfortunate, but sometimes that's the card you have to choose. Plus, there's this awesome arts festival that some of your fellow entertaining folk are attending and you want to jump on their bandwagon, but you might miss out on the opportunity because it's a little too late to change your plans. And while it's great that you've got so many shows lined up, you just wish that there was a little more time, and a little less distance, between each one.

It's tough, there's no point in complaining, that's just how the vocation works. Anyway, don't forget - there's a lot of enjoyment to come from this way of life, too.

Due to the nature of your occupation, you encounter fresh, as well as familiar, faces from all over the country and with no particular tie to any one location, you have the option to go anywhere you fancy. It's fantastic because it means you can see different places and meet new people, but you kind of wish that it was a little bit easier to see all the friends you want to see, do all the jobs you need to do and above all, be able to have fun, too. It seems that to have all three is a virtual impossibility.

After all, you're a magician, not a miracle worker.

On the jukebox: Radiohead ~ Creep

First Time

Today, I have done it again.

It's never just once. Smokers say that the first cigarette isn't nice; it's not. But once you've done it once, you might as well do it again. You've broken the barrier, it's not such a big deal anymore. Like sex. Once you've lost your virginity, you can't get it back. From then on, every subsequent conquest is a notch on the bedpost and since it's not the first time any more, it's not so notable, it doesn't matter, whatever.

The first time you get disgustingly drunk. Once and never again, you say. How embarassing, how terribly hungover. Remember how awful you felt? Remember, how you wanted to die? Yes, for a week, a month, a year. But then you jump right back off the wagon, you've coped before, you can do it again. When a boy treats you badly, so you break up. When you know it won't work out, so you break up. When you know he's just not right for you, so you break up, again. But then the time comes around again for you to come around to the idea that maybe we can work around this situation. Maybe. But maybe it'll be exactly the same as before and nothing more? Maybe.

Maybe it won't be so bad this time. I can give it up any time I like. And I will. Just watch me. I will. I'll watch; I'll wait.

Okay, just once more.

I told you so.

On the jukebox: The Bird & The Bee ~ Again & Again

Rock Out

Today, I have deliberated.

Forever in a dilemma, I've already paid £4 to go out with people I don't like to listen to music I don't like, in a bizarre way to try to integrate more.

So do I:
-spend £4 on taxi to and fro?
-spend £# on drinks to drown out the dire dance music and forget my frustrations?
-maybe have some kind of fun at some point, possibly?

Or:
-consider the £4 already paid as sunk costs, and keep taxi and drinks money by not attending at all?
-sleep

So really, I could be saving money by being able to go to bed early, and rest the lumpy head, itchy eyes and tired mind. Or should I spend it to rock the night out as best I can, given the circumstance, and get in the good books of the people I don't care about the opinion of, and who probably won't give a toss about whether I'm there or not?

I think I missed the student social gene somewhere. It's the end of exams, surely I should be spending every night out on the town getting trashed? Or every weekday sitting in coffee shops catching up with old friends and such? All my true friends are far away or on holiday. I had a good night last night, a good lunch out today, can I not just leave it at that and stop feeling so guilty and inadequate?

Vote before this entry disappears on the stroke of the eleventh hour:

Stay In or Go Out?

On the jukebox: Halo Friendlies ~ Me vs. The World

Split Shift

Today, I have felt shuffled about.

Here. There. Home. Back. Leave. Return. Coming. Going.

The first few weeks of my pseduoholiday are reasonably diary-filled. Summer sees another influx of birthdays, as well as belated birthdays (due to exam constraints), along with the general "we have nothing better to do than drink" mentality that comes with end of term, meaning there's rarely an excuse not go out of an evening. The student life, eh? There's also the other summer celebrations that roll around and the odd one-off events - charity runs, family gatherings, theatre trips, weddings, music festivals, visiting long-distance friends, holidays.

All in all, there's lots to look forward to, so there should be no complaints merely because there's so many opportunties avaliable. The problem is, with so much choice, and the fact that my life is split into two places, it is difficult to decide upon the right course of action. A 21st birthday celebration up here, but a friend in need back there. One of my friend's birthday party clashes with a theatre trip - the tickets for the latter were booked months in advance. It's a cousin's confirmation; there's a wedding I've been asked to work at. The one evening uni friends may be visiting my home town in the summer, and I will be out of town. Being booked tickets for the best musical in the history of the stage, and having to give them up, because I am on holiday. Tough life, eh?!

Along with all the awkward decision-making that every double-booked day involves, there's the inevitable guilt attached. There's the booking public transport appropriately, spending a evening here, squeezing in a sleepover there. Going out 'til 3am, getting the bus five hours later, only to return the next day, and the next week repeat the routine again. Some people could take it in their stride, thrive on the buzz of being a busy social butterfly. It exhausts me, just contemplating it and trying to work around everything, whilst being there for the people who need me, not letting down the people I've already confirmed and somewhere in the midst of it all, finding where I can fit it what I want to do, and not just because I should do it.

On the jukebox: Ocean Colour Scene ~ The Day We Caught The Train

Summer Fun

Today, I have been sourcing some summer fun.

Organising is such an effort, and so very complicated. Before we even get to the booking of tickets or working out travel options, there's the initial finding out of the whos and whens can make it. Who do we include? When can we do it? Even at school, it'd take us weeks to figure out the simplest situation, spontanaeity was rare, even the odd evening out require rigorious planning. Now, spread across the country, having not met up all together since 2007, we try to conduct a conversation via a discussion thread. This form of technology is very useful, don't get me wrong, without it, we'd never get anywhere - what with crossed phone-calls and mass group texts. But at the same time, it's not the same as sitting down together and trying to figure it out that way. It's so hard to figure out a point when all people are avaliable, and when it comes down to it, inevitably it turns out to be impossible. People have plans, people have partners, people have placements, people have jobs, people have budgets, people have other holidays. There isn't more than one consecutive day where all people have free.

A group holiday is a nice idea, but when it comes down to it, it's just not feasible. Personally, I'd prefer to spend the time with the people I want to spend time with, and I'd like to be able to say - well, if you're not flexible, I'm afraid we're going to have to book it without you. Sometimes, it seems, we're just doing it for the sake of it. Sure, we'd have fun, but it wouldn't be the same as two years ago, and the lack of enthusiam is evident in certain cases.

In all honesty, it's come to the point where I just want to say - let's give it up. We can go for festivals, we can go for days out, we can go to the beach, we can go to the city, but when it comes to going on holiday, perhaps it's best that we just leave it. However, I know that the wave of disappointment, resentment and guilt felt upon making that statement would be more than it's worth.

To love an idea is to love it a little more than one should.
~Jean Rostand

On the jukebox: Wham! ~ Club Tropicana

Student Reunion

Today, I have a ticket for a reunion.

Isn't it strange, how much you can change, in a year, or a minute or more?

It was around this time last year that things started to change. The last term in halls, every moment was the last this or the last that. Feeling trapped in a group of friends with whom I didn't get on with was difficult and split loyalities meant that although I know who I'd rather be spending time with, the guilt involved and courage required in taking that option was overwhelming.

By way of passive invitation, it came to my notice that there was to be a reunion for the inhabitants of our hall last year. As usual, I felt a twinge of regret because I knew I wouldn't be attending. The only people I've really kept in touch with from halls are my current/future housemates and since they never wished to be involved in the wider side of the hall community, once we left last summer, there was unlikely that any of them had any desire to see those familiar faces again. So, after so carefully creating a situation whereby I could nod, smile or greet anyone of a hundred or so people if I were to meet them on campus, I had someone dug myself into a hole, backing away from it all in favour of hoping to find something less transient, more concrete, people I could rely on.

It appears I chose the wrong ones.

After receiving three separate messages enquiring if I were to show my face at the reunion, would you like me to get you a ticket? I decided to bite the bullet, take a chance and say yes! count me in! despite the fact that I didn't have anyone specific to go with and I knew none of my housemates would be going. No worries, there is someone I could ask, after all, they texted me asking if I wanted a ticket in the first place, surely they wouldn't mind me tagging along? Full of anticipation, I responded and asked about the specific details.

A week later, it is the reunion tonight. I don't have anything nice to wear, I don't have anyone to go with, and after receiving a less than enthusiastic message about getting back to me on the wheres and whens of it, I don't feel like I really want to go anymore. Having checked out the guest list, I know, it will be filled with people who are focussed on their own friendships and all the while I'll be on the sidelines, as I always was content to be. Plenty of people to talk to, but no friends to call my own.

On the jukebox: Coldplay ~ In My Place